"I think Im poem-challenged. But I DID read it and smile, so there ya go! I liked it." Thanks!
This one is a do-it-yourself image poem, but that doesn't mean that Billie and the others can't rise to the challenge of creating an image to fit it.
(We usually do things the other way around. They create the image, and then I write a poem. They'll just have to make do, though. I don't have time to do things that way these days.)
Spirals
Like a top slowly spinning, the Earth wobbles round,
As it circles the center, and plunges on down,
Just following blindly the bore thats been set,
In a long looping circle we havent closed yet.
The edges spin slowly, the center quite fast,
In a movement of endless enormities vast,
Whose masses are tangled with webbing unseen,
That tugs them and trips them and all in between.
Then out from this puddle of bright creamy sheen,
For stretches unmindful of time in between,
The clean empty nothing that lets one see far,
But allows only cold silent shadows of stars,
To wander forever in search of a mind,
And will, full of wonder that helps it unwind,
The clockwork thats ticking, as time travels on,
Toward an eventually bright mental dawn.
NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . October 4, 2008